


and on the right, went down in to the sea

by Kt_fairy



Series: all the boards did shrink [2]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Victorian Sex Toys, but mainly smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24646303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: He had thought, more than once, that Francis must be curious - he had made a career out of his curiosity, afterall; and if he ever dared ask, would James ever dare to show him? The heat he could feel wash through him, all the way up to his scarred hairline, as his cock twitched where it was pressed against Francis, was answer enoughJames turned back, finding that Francis was already looking at him with a shy sort of intensity. "Yes."
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Series: all the boards did shrink [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781956
Comments: 29
Kudos: 105





	and on the right, went down in to the sea

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm being quite bold in calling these to fic's a series, seeing as this is just smut. But it dose call back to the 'all the boards did shrink' quite a lot (and I cba to link it) so here we are.
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my partner in Victorian Explorer Crimes, MsKingBean, for her advice and enthusiasm, and for showing me that book from the sex museum in Amsterdam.

"You will be happy to know that I managed to bank the fire without your hovering supervision.”

“I was there in spirit,” James called over his shoulder as he set a clean cloth down by his wash basin, “I am sure you did a most capable job without me.” He twisted to show his smile to Francis, the heat that had been burning low while he had seen to the necessaries coming back to life with a twinge when he saw how intently he was being regarded.

Francis made a compelling sight, dressed down to his dark waistcoat, shirt collar still askew and his hair in sweet disorder from James’ wandering fingers and kisses. And from the way Francis was looking at him, eyes turned charcoal grey by the candlelight, James was confident that his appearance, in naught but his shirt and stockings, was just as compelling as he had hoped it would be, rather than thoroughly comedic.

The novelty, if it could be called that, of seeing the other in such states of undress had not yet worn off from these new intimacies; which had been such a simple thing to fall into, in the end. The understanding they had found in the other, and the many months of pleasant companionship and domestic living before Francis had… well, before Francis caught him _in flagrante delicto_ , had smoothed out the complicated part of all this; the fitting together of two temperaments forged by a life spent at sea. 

James turned as Francis crossed the room, leaning into him when a broad, warm hand smoothed gently over James’ lower back as Francis slipped his arm about James’ waist. 

“I certainly get the job done quicker without your help.”

James clicked his tongue behind his teeth, trailing his fingers down the lapel of Francis’ waistcoat to curl against his chest, “Where’s the fun in that, much better to --”

“ _Stretch it out between two_ , don’t tell me,” Francis put in, smiling sweetly when James laughed.

“No. It is much better to have _company_ , is what I meant to say.” James shifted closer, hips angling against Francis so they might both feel the other’s resurgent interest. “But the other is also true,” he murmured, brushing his lips against Francis’ cheek, his jaw, then laying soft kisses to the shape of his mouth until Francis pushed his fingers through James' hair and pulled him into a kiss. 

The passion that had slowly built over the evening, through touches and sweet words - through James’ restless fingers and the hand Francis had let wander over the leg James had cast so insouciantly over his lap - returned as if they had never stepped apart. 

James found that his fingers were still restless, deftly unbuttoning Francis’ waistcoat before tripping down Francis’ side and over his back, tucking under his braces to ruck up his shirt. He knew his fingers were cool, and when Francis started at their touch James licked into his mouth, cupping Francis faintly stubbled cheek as he took over the kiss by inches. 

Francis submitted easily to being soundly kissed, both of them happy for him to concentrate on hauling up the tails of James’ shirt to palm at his backside. James gasped into the kiss, half wishing Francis’ fingers could find their way to where he had readied himself. Instead he tightened his grip at James’ waist to pull him close against him as they stumbled the few paces from basin to bed. 

Francis’ waistcoat was cast aside when James dropped down to sit in the middle of the bed. He reached out for him when he knelt on the edge of the bed, letting Francis push his braces off his shoulders before pulling him down atop him.

James arched his back, hooking his leg around Francis so he could roll his hips up against the hot, heavy line of his prick. Francis grasped James' thigh, running his rough palm from hip to knee to hitch James' leg higher as he lay kisses to James’ throat, the rasp of stubble against his skin sending a shiver of heat through James.

"Oh, I see," Francis breathed, a smile in his voice, and James gasped aloud when Francis ran his prickly cheek against the most tender skin at the base of his throat.

" _Fra-_ damn you," he breathed, desire and fondness mingling in his breast. He slipped his hand inside of Francis' shirt, dragging nails lightly up his back and down his side, digging his fingers into the healthy padding at his stomach.

"Shall we get to it, or would you prefer to rub your cheek against me like a cat?"

Francis pulled back, a flush on his face and mirth in his eyes as he bore his hips down, paying no heed to any of James' sharp edges as he pushed him into the bed, fingers playing along the tie at the top of James’ stockings. "Get to it?"

“I am quite beyond poetry, at the moment,” James huffed, digging his heel into the meat of Francis’ backside. “Although not beyond anything you might want.”

Francis' gaze shifted, as if pulled by the direction of a thought, and James craned his head to follow it over to his bedside table.

Francis knew what was contained in the oft locked bottom-most draw; after James had kicked it to the floor right in front of him, still slick from use, there was no dragging the carved ivory cock back into being a secret. 

He had thought, more than once, that Francis must be curious - he had made a career out of his curiosity, afterall; and if he ever dared ask, would James ever dare to show him? The heat he could feel wash through him, all the way up to his scarred hairline, as his cock twitched where it was pressed against Francis, was answer enough

James turned back, finding that Francis was already looking at him with a shy sort of intensity. "Yes," James said. Francis swore under his breath, and James pushed his fingers into his hair to pull Francis into a kiss.

  
  
  


They had disentangled to rearrange themselves, shoving aside sheets and pulling pillows into place. Francis had settled between James’ feet when he laid out on the bed, keen eyes watching James take his time to grease the ivory and warm it between his palms. James looked right back at Francis as he did so, biting his lip with Francis’ fingers brushed over his entrance, then easily slipped into him, Francis rocking them just enough to make James’ breath catch.

He felt vulnerable, to lay here like this under Francis’ ever perceptive gaze. James should be mortified, a part of him snapped, to be so brazenly base, to unman himself so before another; his shirt pushed up to his angular ribs, hips perched on a pillow, legs spread wide with a foot braced on Francis’ shoulder. 

His hand was warm on James’ ankle though, thumb stroking idly over the bone, a gentle, affectionate touch that anchored James to his desire that was fair burning now.

James had always been a showy creature, knowing just which ideal, shining parts of himself people wanted to see when they looked at him, hiding himself in plain sight. He was all imperfections now, marked by more than scars and robbed of more than just teeth, but James still knew how to hold himself when he was being watched. 

He hoped his hair fell as it should against his cheek when tilted his head just so when Francis withdrew his fingers. James knew how it would show the pale line of his throat when he swallowed, eyes slipping closed as he got a hold on the engraved silver handle and set the slick, flared head against himself. He eased it in with one long push that stretched him so nicely James grunted, a smile pulling at his dry lips when Francis uttered an oath.

He had not used his lewd tool in a good while. It had been made joyously redundant by Francis’ fine prick and fingers, and, God save him, mouth and backside. The firmness of the ivory had always been peculiar, there was none of the give nor the curve of a prick that delighted him. However the weight, and the anatomy that was so purposefully carved by the workmen of that backstreet shop in Limehouse - James had quite forgotten how splendid that felt. 

“Oh,” James breathed, shifting his hips as he worked himself, going slower than he liked as he was so very aware of his audience. Of Francis. Of the heat of him, the swell of his chest as his breathing picked up, the flex of his fingers around James' ankle when he pushed the ivory prick in deliciously deep. 

“James - _Bloody hell_ James,” Francis rasped, fingers tracing down the side of James’ hand. “But you’re a lovely sight.” 

James let out a ragged breath, toes curled against the muscle in Francis’ shoulder as he let the gentle pressure of Francis' hand guide his own. He set an even slower rhythm; the long slide in, and the way the smooth head trailed over his insides on the pull out, sent a prickle of heat through James that forced a hitching moan out of his throat. 

“Ah. _Ah,”_ James panted, vision swimming in a flare of candlelight when he opened his eyes. He looked down his body - so inelegantly scrunched up, his aching cock laying obscenely against a sharp hipbone - to Francis who was flushed and half wild, his wide eyes flicking from James’ face to where their hands were moving between his legs. 

“You can… ” James groaned, huffing his hair back from his forehead when he slowly took his hand away. He stretched out his arm before grasping the pillow under his head, laying back into the sensation as Francis took up the task of pedicating him. 

He was a quick study, if a little clumsy at first, and James felt embarrassment mingle with his pleasure as he thought of what he must look like; gasping and sighing and rocking his hips as much as he could, all for sake of another’s eyes. He would have thought himself nothing but show, a peacock existing for the eyes of others, if Francis did not lay gentle kisses to his ankle, hand making soothing sweeps over James’ calf as he asked, “ _like this?_ ”, or murmured things that James could only half hear but sent heat rolling through him anyway. 

“That’s - _Francis --_ ” James gabbled when Francis finally put a hand on his cock, his whole body jolting when Francis merely squeezed in time with the way he was thrusting the prick into him. “I will not beg,” James panted, body alight with the knowledge that he would beg - that Francis could make him in the gentlest way. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Francis ground out, stiff mattress dipping as he shifted. “I may beg you to let me have you.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, then James was letting out a stream of, “ _yes, yes, yes_ ,” as he scrambled for the tin of grease.

The ivory was pulled out roughly enough that it sent a shiver through James even as he winced. He swallowed down a noise that made its way out anyway once Francis had his trousers unbuttoned and shirt pushed aside. It was not the most magnificent prick James had ever taken, but it filled and stretched and dragged in every way James wanted when he was made loved to, and he was rather fond of it. 

He reached to slick the heated skin, wanting to touch Francis. But he was ducking down, and James let out a rather embarrassing yelp as Francis attended to his most intimate place with tongue and mouth.

“Oh, God damn you,” James moaned, bouncing his foot off Francis’ back in protest as desperation threatened to overtake him.

With a vulgar parting kiss Francis pulled away. He kissed James’ hip bone, his spare stomach, pushing his shirt up enough to kiss the sensitive skin just under the dead whorl of the scar on his ribs, before crawling over James.

He rubbed the grease into Francis’ thick, firm prick, catching his groans on his lips. Then James threw his arms about Francis as he pushed in so easily and with such a slick noise that James became quite beside himself. 

All sorts of noises and half coherancies left James’ mouth as he was given a most complete seeing to. He swore when Francis kissed down the line of his throat, heels digging into the tensing firmness of Francis’ arse, pressing fingers into his side as he encouraged Francis to rest as much of his weight on James as he might.

In those days when James’ returning urges had no other outlet than his imagination, it was these little things - the rough and the soft parts of a human body - that he had been unable to conjure. The smell of fire smoke in Francis’ hair, the scent of James’ soap on his skin, the weight and the heat of him; the softness of his mouth and the gentle touch of his indelicate sailors hands as he rocked into James so firmly it made them both grunt, something in the bed creaking.

The approach of James’ end felt slow, but then happened all at once; the great crescendo overtaking him, leaving him shaking and heavy in its wake with a dull ache, easily ignored, behind his bad eye. His cock continued to twitch every time Francis pushed in, and in, and in, and James raked his fingers into his hair as he continued to moan.

He kissed Francis' face, setting his teeth to his ear to whisper promises and encouragements, in the rough way that made Francis groan, until he hissed an oath between his teeth and pumped into James a dozen times as he met his own end. 

“Christ,” Francis panted in the swirling aftermath, a blissful moment before aching joints would force them apart and messes would need to be cleared up. “That took a turn.” 

“I should say. You lovely, wicked thing," James smoothed his hands over Francis' hair. "You uncouth sailor,” he cupped Francis' glowing cheeks and whispered, “my love.”

Francis smiled, sweet and slightly self-conscious, and it was simply unthinkable for James not to kiss the palm of a hand, his wrist, and then his dear face.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the last fic - I won't link the Victorian dildo's I googled, but I bet you all have a good idea by now


End file.
